


onwards and forwards

by reluminous



Series: from the shadows of the vhenadahl tree [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:41:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26856118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reluminous/pseuds/reluminous
Summary: Kallian meets a lady knight. She is quite impressed.
Relationships: Duncan/Female Tabris (Dragon Age)
Series: from the shadows of the vhenadahl tree [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1955500
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Aveline is the best, fight me.

After doing their best to clean up, they fall asleep together in the bed. Why not, Kallian reasons, when it is certainly big enough for the two of them. They have already done much more than sleep in it.

When morning comes, Kallian regrets their activities in a way that she hadn't expected.

"Ah," Duncan says when he sees how gingerly she moves. "Perhaps I should have warned you…"

Kallian has heard that even the smartest of men can fail to think with the right head. She understands the sentiment a little better now. "Will it ease before we reach Ostagar?" she asks. She expects to die, but she would really prefer to gather as much of a fighting chance for herself as she can.

"Yes," Duncan says, sounding rather rueful. "We were both somewhat careful, so as long as you are not bleeding unduly, then you should be fine by the time we reach our destination."

Kallian had checked for blood, after. She had been a little surprised to find none; then again, he had been very gentle, even if she herself had not been, and Kallian has heard women whispering about how the blood doesn't always come even if it is your first time. The conversation she had overheard had specifically been about how to fake it if it didn't show on the sheets after to appease your new husband and his family. Kallian had taken note of it at the time, but it had ended up not mattering in the slightest. It is not as if Duncan was particularly concerned about the state of her virtue when he'd agreed to bed her. Nelaros never had the chance to care at all. The thought of it stings, but less than it had before.

The ache between her legs and the lingering marks on her skin are a constant reminder of how thorough Duncan had been in helping her find her pleasure last night. If Nelaros had shown such skill, Kallian wonders if she would have been so grateful as she is now or whether she might have been jealous. It is hard to say now. She puts the question out of her mind and concentrates on pulling on her armor, settling her pack on her back.

The innkeeper's smile is a little strained now, and his wife's sneer is more pronounced than yesterday. She manages to contain herself until after Duncan has handed over the coin for extra provisions and they are heading out the door to say, loud enough for anyone to hear, "Of course Rivaini marauder scum could do no better than an elven wench."

Duncan does not react at all, so Kallian does not either, following him wordlessly to the edge of the village before she asks, "Rivaini?" Her father works on the docks sometimes to make extra money on the side. She has heard of Rivaini pirates, but she cannot understand why such vitriol can be found towards them this far inland. Perhaps the innkeeper's wife used to be a sailor or hails from a family of sailors. It does not explain why the disgust had been aimed more squarely at him rather than her.

His steps slow to a stop when he turns to look at her. She follows suit again.

Duncan says, "Even you must have noticed that I do not look like most humans here in Ferelden."

Kallian blinks at him. "Of course." He is much darker, of course, and his armor is distinctly of a style that is unlike any she has seen before. His demeanor is also rather unusual, calm and certain, filled with purpose. She had thought that might have been attributed to his being a Grey Warden, but the serious expression on his face causes her to stop and really consider the meaning of his words.

Humans of all sorts pass through Denerim. Her relatively few jaunts out into the city proper are enough for her to know that although many of the residents of Denerim tend to be pale and rather pink, with some variation in hair color and other features, humans can come in many variations. It is not unusual to see humans even darker of complexion than Duncan in Denerim, or taller, broader, fatter, thinner…

Somehow Kallian does not think this is what he is trying to bring her attention to. "I suppose you are not referring to your being a Grey Warden," she says finally, stumped by what he seems to expect her to understand.

Duncan eyes her, as if he suspects her of being disingenuous, but relents. He begins walking again as he explains. "My mother hailed originally from the country of Rivain. I take after her strongly, though my father was Ferelden. Rivaini are most well-known for their piracy here in this country and have something of an unfavorable reputation. There are those that would take their anger at the misdeeds of some on any that they encounter. Likely you understand this as well as I do."

Kallian does. It hadn't occurred to her that humans might not treat only elves with prejudice, but each other. Among elves, there are fair-featured and darker-featured and everything in between; however, the meaning of the differences has been lost for centuries now. Now the distinctive pointy ends of her ears are enough to give her community within the Alienage, even if her mother's unusual features had presented themselves just as strongly in Kallian.

Not that there isn't strife or disagreements within the Alienage. It just tends to be personal grudges carried on by family members rather than based on place of origin or appearance. Kallian doesn't think that such a lack of nation- or looks-based animosity is worth the loss of their history and culture, not when it is a result of their very identities having been systematically destroyed for hundreds of generations as her people were ground under the boot heels of humankind, but at least she doesn't fear rejection from her own people. Small mercies.

"Fear makes fools of even the best of us," Kallian says finally. It is another thing that Valendrian likes to say. She misses his stolid wisdom, his unwavering calm. Duncan smiles, and she remembers that Valendrian had called him an old friend.

"Indeed," he says.

Neither of them say much else until they make camp that night, but the shared silence is somehow easier and less fraught than the few days before they'd come upon the inn. Kallian finds herself not only grateful again that he had been in the right place at the right time to rescue her from the king's justice, but also glad to have him as company.

Even if walking is rather uncomfortable for the moment.

The next day brings an unexpected encounter on the road. A knight in shining armor upon a fine steed, leading a company of men, her red hair gleaming in the sun. "Ho there," she cries upon seeing Duncan. "Well met, Grey Warden!"

"Well met, Ser Aveline," Duncan greets her, real pleasure in his voice. "It has been some time."

"You found another recruit, then?" she inquires, eyeing Kallian with curiosity but no suspicion or disdain. There is a frankness to her speech and expression that invites trust. 

Kallian doesn't give it, naturally. It isn't that she doesn't trust humans to be decent. If that were true, she would have never followed Duncan as far as she has, let alone trusted him to touch her. She just thinks it is prudent to be wary, to give to humans only as much as she can stand to lose. She has no recourse if they betray her. At least with another elf, she could bring it to the hahren or accuse them and have a public disagreement with them without endangering herself. Here, outside the Alienage and surrounded only by strange humans, she plays it safe.

"Yes. I am Kallian," she says. A given name is more difficult to track back to her family than a surname. She lets her race speak for itself.

"I am Ser Aveline," the woman says, extending a hand to Kallian. Surprised, Kallian takes it and Ser Aveline gives her hand a very firm shake. She is also given a cordial nod of acknowledgment. All in all, quite the performance for a knight in the king's service to give when meeting an elf for the first time. When Ser Aveline's eyes flicker quickly to the side to observe her own men, Kallian understands that it is for their benefit and is amazed by this woman's dedication to ensure that Kallian is treated with respect. "We are happy to have you with us."

"I am sure the pleasure is all mine," Kallian manages to say through her bewilderment. Ser Aveline's smile in response is a little strained, but genuine.

"Grey Warden," Ser Aveline says, addressing Duncan again. "We did not see you in Lothering."

"We took a route that kept us closer to the Brecilian Forest," Duncan explains. "I had hoped to find signs of the Dalish, but…"

 _The Dalish!_ Taeodor's brothers had gone looking for them, but most people in the Alienage didn't believe they existed anymore, if they ever did. But Duncan spoke not only as if they existed, but as if it was a given that they did. He even knew where they likely were!

She hopes Taeodor's brothers had managed to find them.

Ser Aveline nods in understanding. "They are not given to welcoming outsiders into their space," she says with understanding, as if she has experienced this personally. She looks at Kallian thoughtfully. "It is hard to say whether or not having your new recruit with you helped or hindered in that."

Kallian's mouth is very dry. _The Dalish!_ she thinks to herself again giddily. Ser Aveline has implied that the Dalish would be just as wary of her as of Duncan, but her delight at having their existence confirmed overrides any dismay she could feel about that.

Stories of the Dalish in the Alienage are filled with swashbuckling and heroic rescues, magic and fantasy, but no one born in the Alienage has ever seen or met a Dalish elf. They are nearly as mythical as dragons to them. The skepticism and disillusionment borne of learning her place in Denerim had banished her of her childhood wonder at the idea of the Dalish elves, but Kallian has now met a Grey Warden and a lady knight, and now they speak of the Dalish as if they are _real_.

She had always known how small and limited her life in the Alienage was. How wonderful and disheartening it is to find out just how large and filled with possibilities the world outside is.

Kallian is so thoroughly distracted by this that she does not register the orders Ser Aveline is giving to her men. She wishes belatedly that she had been because it means she does not notice the horse until it is abruptly right in front of her.

Ser Aveline notices her pole-axed expression. "Ah," she says. "I suppose you don't know how to ride?"

Unable to find words to express her alarm, Kallian just shakes her head vigorously and wordlessly.

"She will ride with me," Duncan says. "I thank you for your generosity, ser."

"We were instructed to bring as many as we could," Ser Aveline says. "It is no trouble. It even frees up a few hands on my end. I'm sure we've got an extra tent for you somewhere as well." She laughs out loud at the look that lights up Kallian's face. "Duncan, you're the same as ever! I suppose you've had the poor girl sleeping in mud this whole time."

"Ah, but it is the mud that gives Ferelden so much character," Duncan says soberly, but his eyes are alight with humor. "How else can this fine country impart any of it upon its people?"

"Character is meant to be washed off in the bath," Kallian says grimly, pleased when Duncan cracks a smile at her joke.

Ser Aveline chuckles. "Nevertheless, if we have one to spare, I will be certain that you are given use of it," she says. She nods to one of her men and walks off, which somehow signals the end of their interlude. Her man begins shouting at the soldiers, the ragged gaggles reforming into lines. Duncan takes Kallian's pack and begins tying it to the horse, which allows it though only with an impatient huff.

"Thank you," Kallian says.

Duncan unexpectedly lays a hand on her shoulder when he is done. "You might not want to thank me yet," he says wryly. "You must still be sore. Horse-riding will not help in the slightest."

"Oh," she says. Wonderful.

Duncan smiles briefly, his hand on her shoulder sliding up to cup her jaw. She blinks up at him in surprise, meeting his eyes, and she thinks for a moment that he is going to kiss her. The horses mostly block them from view of the others, but not particularly well. They are out in the open, where anybody might see.

His clever thumb draws gently across her jaw, leaving sparks in its wake, but then he releases her. "I'll help you up," he offers.

"Okay," Kallian says.


	2. Chapter 2

Duncan's prediction is correct. By the time night falls and Ser Aveline gives the signal to make camp, Kallian's body is in such a state that she actually falls off the horse instead of dismounting. Duncan seems to predict this and catches her before she ends up a crumpled heap on the ground.

Kallian, who is used to people commenting on how mature and level-headed she is, finds herself sitting and sulking as she watches Duncan swiftly set up the tent Ser Aveline provides them. There are even a couple generously donated bedrolls. She feels she ought to help, but she also doesn't _want_ to and is impatient with herself for such a ridiculous internal conflict.

"We are making good time, even will a full company," Duncan says as he finishes up. A runner comes with two bowls of still steaming gruel for them, and Duncan takes both with a nod of thanks. The girl flashes a grin and turns tail quickly, disappearing around another tent. Duncan hands one bowl to Kallian, continuing to speak even as she digs in. "Our original pace would not have been much different, but with the horses we will likely cut our journey short by about half a day."

"We will be at Ostagar in about a day and a half, then," Kallian says.

"Very likely," Duncan says, and begins eating.

They finish their food in relative silence. Kallian does some stretches once she's done, setting the bowl down on the ground beside her. She grunts in a rather unladylike fashion when she shifts too quickly once.

Duncan reaches over to set his bowl next to hers. "I feel that I ought to apologize."

She turns her head to squint at him suspiciously, the light of the fire just far enough away that she can make out his stronger features and see the glint of his eyes but not see the finer details of his expression. "Must you?"

"I respect that it was your choice to make," he assures her, his hand coming to rest on her thigh and squeezing. "I just wonder if perhaps I should have given you a clearer idea of what to expect after so that you would be fully prepared for the consequences."

Kallian's tension eases and she snorts softly, another unladylike sound that surprises herself. "You couldn't have expected the horses."

"No," Duncan agrees. She thinks he sees him smile. "Not the horses, but…"

Kallian sighs to cut him off. "As you say, it was my decision. I haven't regretted it yet, horse or not."

He squeezes her thigh again and says simply, "I'm glad." Duncan makes to draw his hand away, but she steals it and takes it in hers before he can. She runs her fingertips across the thick calluses on his hands. Hers are still developing, still tender and red, and she traces the trajectory of the thick skin across his palm, finding scars along the way. A warrior's hands, despite the lightning he can stir in her body.

She lets go of his hand when the runner comes back for the bowls. When the runner is gone again, Duncan takes her face in his hands and kisses her gently but with intent.

When he pulls away, she is somewhat dazed. Still, Kallian manages to collect herself enough to warn, "I know I have to get back on that horse again tomorrow."

"Come," Duncan says, standing and taking her hand to help her up. "I believe I can do something to help."

His 'help' is nearly as devastating as the sex had been. A massage with fragrant oil that smells so heavenly that Kallian feels inappropriately indulgent, his hands and fingers digging into her tight muscles and then soothing the hurts that he summons; Kallian stuffs nearly her full hand into her mouth to muffle her moans. By all rights, her nakedness means she should be cold, the thin fabric of the tent barely any defense against the chill of the night air, but instead she is burning up.

When he seems to be done, she flops bonelessly onto her side to do her best to pick his face out in the darkness. "Why are you so good at this?" she asks bluntly. She is too relaxed and curious not to ask.

She thinks he smiles faintly down at her. "I have seen many things," Duncan says. "Many horrors. Sometimes wrought by my own hands. I found many years ago that one way to counterbalance it was by using my hands to provide pleasure to others instead."

Kallian rolls back onto her face and presses it into the bedroll. "Lucky them," she mumbles into it. _Lucky me._ Her entire body feels loose and heavy. She needs to put her clothes back on before she falls asleep. With a groan, she pushes herself up onto her hands and knees and carefully sits back on her heels.

An involuntary noise from Duncan has her glancing over at him. He has his face turned away, so she reaches out to bring it back towards her, leaning in so she can get a better look at him. His face feels unusually hot under her hands. "You are lovely," he says quietly.

Kallian considers her nakedness and the situation. She wants nothing more from his hands tonight.

However, perhaps there is something she can do with hers. She has been curious about it since she saw it that night.

"Lie back," she says. Once he has complied, she undoes the laces of his pants and he shifts his hips so she can pull them down to his thighs. She is too lazy to pull them any further down. His cock is only half-hard, which she regards with interest. It looks different like this, though somehow not much smaller. She wonders what it looks like soft. So far she has yet to see that for herself. She'd been rather distracted the last time.

Kallian prefers the direct approach whenever she can, so she reaches out with both hands and grips.

He gasps, but suggests, "The oil—"

That's a good idea. Kallian suspects it is not his first time using the oil for this purpose as well. She supposes it can be used for a number of different things she had never considered before. Perhaps she should start carrying some of her own. She will consider it if she manages to survive Ostagar.

Even with the oil, she is not particularly good at this new skill, but yet again Duncan proves up to the task of guiding her. Between gasps and cut-off moans, he tells her how to grip harder, twist her grip in a way to make him shudder, rub the tip with one hand as she drags her other hand up and down rapidly to make him bite his lip and his eyes roll up into the back of his head until his body jerks hard and his cock pulses in her hands, white leaking out over her hands.

Kallian finds that she likes the way this allows her to watch as his chest heaves and his limbs tremble like hers had under his hands. She is pleased by how well this experiment has gone and hopes she will have the chance to do it again.

She reaches out of the tent to wipe her hands on the grass. "It will give the mud character," she says to Duncan when she is done.

"Funny," he says flatly, but Kallian thinks he means it mostly sincerely, and he tugs his pants back over his hips.

Kallian dresses as well, the cloth feeling strangely rough against the oiled softness of her skin, and they go to their separate bedrolls to sleep.

She wakes to Ser Aveline's voice outside, raised in anger. "My girl saw you! Moreover, you were heard by several people. You were not particularly discreet—"

And in response, Duncan's voice, terse but resigned: "I cannot defend myself against your accusations, ser. I understood what I was doing when I did it and I did it regardless. You may bring it to the king if he will listen."

"I will _make_ him listen! Maker, I never thought I would have to talk to you of all people about something like this. How could you, Duncan? Not only your recruit, but an elf woman"—Kallian flinches—"when you must be aware of the power differential between the two of you! She has no recourse to press a case of abuse or harassment against you!"

 _Oh_ , Kallian thinks. How strange it is to hear such unspoken truths said out loud, and by a human no less. She had no idea that there were humans that might know or care about such things.

"Yes," Duncan says. "I know."

A tense pause, and then Ser Aveline lets out a hiss of frustration. "Maker! Just…let me speak to her. Leave, Duncan."

Duncan says nothing in response, but the tent opening is yanked aside just as Kallian sits up in her bedroll. "Good morning," Ser Aveline says, her voice gentler than Kallian could have expected after what she had just heard.

"Good morning," Kallian says warily. She eyes her armor, just out of reach. She wants to be wearing it for this conversation, but it seems rude.

Ser Aveline notices, and smiles wryly. "You must have heard us outside."

Kallian nods slowly, waiting for her to state her business.

The other woman goes to one knee at her bedside, an alarmingly formal gesture of respect. "It is your choice," Ser Aveline says lowly, "but I tell you now that there is room enough in my tent if you would prefer it. I cannot guarantee the prestige of the Grey Wardens, but I have the means to provide for a page if that is work that you do not find objectionable. The king will not question my judgment, even if the Warden-Commander takes this matter to him."

Kallian stares at her face, waiting for the other boot to drop.

There is none. Only Ser Aveline's earnest face and sincere offer. It is incredibly effective in convincing Kallian that this human, despite all of Kallian's instincts insisting it cannot be, is a good and moral person who truly cares about Kallian's well-being.

It is a generous offer. Kallian is sorely tempted. She knows she would make a good page; she is good at taking care of others, experienced and skilled in many domestic duties that pages tend to be entrusted with, capable of reading and writing thanks to her father's insistence on sending her to an actual school, and above all a quick learner. She could build herself a good life at Ser Aveline's side as a trusted attendant.

But she had promised to serve only herself. If she pretends that what happened with Duncan was anything other than her own will, she will be lying to Ser Aveline, and above all she will be lying to herself. Kallian does not particularly _want_ to be a Grey Warden. However, she will not escape the duty she has allowed Duncan to drape upon her shoulders by deceiving someone who only wants to help her.

"Thank you," Kallian says finally, as sincerely as she can manage it. "I am honored by such a kind offer. I am truly sorry to decline."

The furrow between Ser Aveline's brows carries both concern and honest dismay. "Kallian, please. Duncan has abused his position, and I cannot let it pass."

Kallian looks down at her hands. It is true that Duncan has not given her the benefit of making her own choices, at least where it comes to where her responsibilities ought to lie. Pleasure he has let her pursue with some initial reluctance, but on duty he is implacable. He will not let her leave, he will not let her go home, and she travels to take her place on a battlefield for which she is wholly unprepared; that will not change for all that her skill with archery and knifeplay has improved in leaps and bounds since she started training with him, even in just these scant few weeks. They are both aware of how unlikely she is to survive at the end of this journey and yet she has chosen him to teach her pleasure because there is no one else available that she trusts with her body.

It is not ideal in the slightest. In fact, it is highly inappropriate, nigh unacceptably so. She knew it when she offered, he knew it when he accepted, and that had not stopped either of them.

For better or for worse, it is all that Kallian has left that she really wants now.

"I am sorry, ser," Kallian says softly. Her hands are bunched into fists in her blankets again, like they had been the night she contemplated her impending death and decided to grasp whatever pleasure she can before she can no longer.

Ser Aveline is quiet for a long moment, then she stands swiftly, her armor a cacophony of sounds. To Kallian's surprise, she does not leave immediately.

"I understand, Kallian," Ser Aveline says, her voice unbearably gentle. "As I said, it is your choice. My offer will remain open to you if you change your mind at any time." She begins to leave, but hesitates. Carefully, she adds, "It is one choice among others. If there are other ways I may lend you my assistance, then please do not hesitate to ask."

Kallian inhales sharply in surprise. A knight in the king's service has just, if she has understood correctly, offered to break the king's law and help her escape if that is what she wishes. Humans, she thinks distantly, are much more varied than she might have ever imagined. Truly the world is bigger and greater than she had ever hoped, defying her expectations in astounding ways.

"I understand," Kallian says, somehow managing to collect her composure. "Thank you. Truly."

Ser Aveline nods once, and then leaves Kallian alone and reeling.

She closes her eyes, painfully aware of how grateful she is. With a single conversation, Ser Aveline has granted her the freedom of choice. Of agency.

Kallian imagines escaping. She could travel back to Denerim and hide among her people; likely Duncan would not chase her, strapped of resources as he already is. She could find her way onto a boat, sail away from the responsibilities tying her to this place and try her luck as a free elf in another country. She could go into the Brecilian Forest, try to find the Dalish as she had dreamed about in her childhood.

Or she could stay. She could try to take a few more moments of pleasure before she tries to stop this danger that will swallow everything. A Blight is indiscriminate: it will make life a misery for all in Ferelden, whether human or elf. Shianni. Soris. Her father. Her neighbors and friends of the Alienage, her community.

She huffs out a laugh. It is no choice in the end. Kallian has been a protector for too long; the weight of that has already settled into her bones. Even if she can do nothing, she must at least _try_. For her family, which she loves and treasures more than anything else, she must try.

Resolved, Kallian opens her eyes and begins to pack up her bedroll. It is time to get back on the road.


End file.
